


put on that red light

by blackflash



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Dubious Consent, Forced Prostitution, Hurt No Comfort, sorry bout this guys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-12
Updated: 2019-09-12
Packaged: 2020-10-17 09:07:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20618507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackflash/pseuds/blackflash
Summary: Steve does what is asked of him.





	put on that red light

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [America Thanks You](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14523717) by [LBibliophile](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LBibliophile/pseuds/LBibliophile). 

> so. real talk this has been sitting in my drafts for ages and i finally got around to posting it. the fic that inspired this really got my brain turning and this is what it produced
> 
> the title could be from any number of songs (roxanne by the police, roxanne from moulin rouge, and when the sun goes down by the arctic monkeys in particular)

The first thing that Steve learned after Erskine died was that his body was not his own.

He belonged to the tabloids that printed stories of his heroic fight with the HYDRA Agent, the scientists that made and observed him, the government that had funded his transformation, but most of all, the bigwigs said, he belonged to the people. 

He was the only product of Erskine’s serum, and for that reason, they couldn’t let him help. They couldn’t let him fight. So, in a meeting that Steve was only allowed to sit in on by virtue of the fact that he was the one being discussed, they decided he would be the face of the war to the people, raising morale (and bond sales) wherever he went. Of course, in the meantime, he would be ping-ponged through scientific institutions in the hopes that they could figure out what made him tick. Steve, of course, had no say in this. He belonged to them. He was subject to their whims.

“Of course, besides raising morale and bond sales, we need him to win over the people with the real money. The businessmen, the entrepreneurs. The… weapons manufacturers,” said a man in a slick suit, who had been quiet until then. “Maybe we can offer them ‘private interviews’ with Captain America, like we do with the USO girls.” A few of the others quirked a smile at the air quotes, but the way that Col. Phillips’s face darkened, and the implications of their phrasing made Steve’s stomach turn. 

“Give them a real taste of American ingenuity,” another said, grinning like he’d told a particularly bad joke. 

...

They set him up with a tour of USO girls, whose constant companionship made his restlessness and the tour itself almost bearable. He became used to the routines and playing the crowds in public. However, in private, he became good at playing people. Those businessmen, entrepreneurs, and manufacturers that they’d wanted him to… thank for supporting the war effort had honed his ‘people skills’. Yet, he’d never get used to it. That split second after they’d imply what they wanted out of him, and he knew it was time for him to do his part. The way he relaxed his frame, made his voice low and sultry. How he gently parted his lips and stared up at them through heavily lidded eyes. He knew what they wanted, and they knew he would give them what they wanted. Which was sex.

Every time he ‘thanked’ someone for their services, he would return to whatever hotel he and the girls were staying at and make use of the free hot water, scrubbing himself down until his skin was raw and red and he felt a little human again.

The USO girls seemed to know what was happening whenever he left for a “private interview” and always gave him space when he returned from them. However, when he was feeling particularly bad, they’d rally around him with hot chocolate they’d saved up to buy and shoulders to cry on. Occasionally, he thought of what the man who’d suggested he ‘thank’ them in the first place had said about the USO girls. They used to thank the sponsors. Now Steve did it, and in his mind, it was better him than them. If he couldn’t fight, at least he could protect someone from these indignities and help the war effort in the process.

He was doing his part, even if ‘his part’ was that of a glorified dancing money to be sold to anyone with money and status. His other ‘part’ was that of a particularly interesting science experiment, to be poked and prodded at by scientists with no interest in who he was as a person. Their only stake in him was one that made him decidedly uncomfortable. Really, his two roles weren’t all that different.

...

Eventually, the USO finished up with their tour of the states. Which of course meant it was time for them to bring morale to the troops and generals. His manager/handler clarified what he himself had already guessed; that the show itself is for the troops, the private interviews for the generals. Steve dreaded the first show. 

When Steve found out that the first show was for Col. Phillips and his regiment, he was utterly relieved. His manager, of course, still set up an ‘interview’, but Steve knew he wouldn’t have to do the usual ‘song and dance’ with Phillips, and he was right.

The two of them sat in silence for a few minutes as Col. Phillips smoked, and Steve rested, the relief on his face evident. No matter how much these ‘interviews’ helped the war effort, Steve was glad whenever he wasn’t forced to do one. Steve heard Phillips shift, and lifted his head to look at the man.

“They’re still making you give private interviews out here.” The sentence is phrased like a question, but it’s a statement, lips set in a firm line as he stared at the tired young man before him. 

Steve let out a bitter laugh. “What d’ya think?” 

Phillips tapped the soot off his cigarette.

“I think that you should’ve given the assholes that did this to you a piece’a your mind.” 

Steve slumped in his seat. “I can’t fight, and the scientists can’t seem to figure out jack shit from me. Might as well do what I can to ‘help’ with the war,” he said, a bitter twist evident in his lips. “And if selling my body is the way to help, then so be it. Besides, it was pretty damn clear from the get-go that my body was no longer mine to do with what I will.” Col. Phillips’ frown deepened. Steve was so young, not yet old enough to drink. All the kid wanted to do was help, and there wasn’t anything he thought he could do.

Col. Phillips remembered him back in Basic, bright-eyed and eager. Sure, Steve had been a scrawny little twig of a guy, sicker than a dog. Rogers probably shouldn’t have been accepted into the SSR, much less the US Army, but there was something about him that Phillips’d liked, that he’d seen promise in. 

Steve had this fire in his eyes, this strong sense of what was  _ right  _ and what was ever so clearly  _ wrong _ . It was a sense of justice that seemed to radiate off him, magnetic and wonderful, oh-so charismatic.

He had all the natural qualities of a leader, packaged into a frail body that looked as if it could be knocked over by a too-strong wind. Steve Rogers, however, was the opposite of frail, where it really counted.

The two of them sat in silence for nearly half an hour more, until Steve remembered that he had a show in the morning, that he had to return to the USO tent before the ladies got too worried. A quiet goodbye, and Steve left the tent just as subdued as he had entered, leaving Colonel Chester Phillips alone in his tent.

… 

The next morning, Steve saw what was left of the men.

The next afternoon, he found out what regiment it was.

The next evening he dropped into enemy territory.

Steve Rogers singlehandedly lead the 107th Regiment out of HYDRA’s clutches and to safety. Proven himself beyond his perfect body and perfect veneer. He’d proven himself more than just another dancing monkey to be paraded around, bounced from sponsor to sponsor, general to general.

With Col. Phillips’s expert help at Getting Shit Done, and with testimony from several members of the 107th, Steve acquired permission to form a regiment of his own. Steve hand-picked the members of the team, with Bucky’s assistance, from the men who had been willing to stay on and fight after Azzano.

The regiment that Steve put together was decidedly non-standard-- desegregated, for one thing, and a far more specialized set of men than most teams had, focusing on using guerilla tactics to systematically dismantle and target HYDRA bases. Their requisitions were non-standard, their targets were non-standard, and altogether, Steve was worried it wouldn’t get approved, what with all the hoops that those in charge would have to jump through to agree that this was necessary and actually give Steve everything he was asking for.

It took Steve quite a lot of brass to get the team approved by the powers that be, schmoozing his way through private ‘meetings’ and giving people something else they wanted in exchange for their favor being laid on the regiment that would come to be known as the Howling Commandos.

…

Steve stared down at his shield with something akin to reverence, rubbing a hand against the cool vibranium disc. A shiny coat of red, white, and blue paint covered Peggy’s bullet marks, and it gleamed under the fluorescent lights that lit the bunker that he and Howard stood in. Something about the shield felt right in is hands, as if it was a part of him-- a limb that somehow he’d lost.

“This-- This is perfect. Words can’t thank you enough.” He’s positive that he’s grinning like a dope. 

“I guess you’ll just have to find another way, then,” scoffed Howard flippantly, hands on his hips, preening and posturing at Steve’s praise of the man’s work. 

Steve stiffened. He could do this, play Howard’s game. It wasn’t as if Steve wasn’t old hat at this by now, but still he flinched at what he knew came next.. 

But like always, Steve let himself relax, parted his lips ever so slightly. His lids are half-closed, and he bites gently at his bottom lip, looking up at Howard through thick lashes. One might even describe the look as something akin to  _ sultry _ .

“I can think of some ways…” Steve trails off, leaving plenty of room for interpretation.

It’s the same old song and dance.

…

The Howling Commandos ship out quickly, their shipping out expedited by Steve’s judicious application of his particular… skillset. 

None of the Howlies ask how Steve ended up with plenty higher-ups wrapped around his little finger. It is both a blessing and a curse. Part of Steve wants to run to Bucky, curl up in his arms in search of comfort like he used to do when he was far smaller and far more fragile. Part of Steve wants to cry his heart out to Bucky, tell him everything. What he’s done and what he plans to keep doing, for the sake of the team. 

But he can’t. He’s the Captain, he’s their leader. And Steve won’t-- No, can’t trouble Buck with this. Steve doesn’t miss the bags under Bucky’s eyes, how Bucky always takes the late shifts, the ones that start at midnight, just to avoid sleeping. Steve has not idea what they did to Bucky at Azzano. He doesn’t want to talk about it, to think about it, and that, Steve understands completely. Sometimes, it’s just easier to keep quiet. So Steve doesn’t tell Bucky about the interviews, and Bucky doesn’t tell Steve about Azzano.   
  


…

On the front, the Howlies are a force to be reckoned with. They take out HYDRA bases with terrifying efficiency, every base they take increasing their skill and knowledge of HYDRA itself. However, the Howlies often have to coordinate with local regiments on how to proceed. Generals and commanders are stubborn, to say the least. For one, the Howling Commandos are a pain to work around on the field, a pain to accommodate, and a pain to help. Altogether, the Howlies are one big headache for any CO they have to work with. Add in the fact that they’re a desegregated unit with an ex-chorus boy for their leader and well… it takes a lot to get people to cooperate with them. 

This is something that Steve knows all too well. Apparently, the first General that he and the Howling Commandos have to work with, was there at the original meeting, the one that decided Steve’s fate. He’s the one that first makes the proposal. His and his company’s complete and total cooperation for a private meeting with Steve to “hash things out.”

Steve does his duty. 

He thought that this would be over with, once he got out in the field. He thought that, once he truly lead, truly held the title of ‘Captain,’ he’d no longer have to use his body to get the job done. Steve should have guessed that it wouldn’t be that easy, that he’d have to recompense the commanders he worked with.

Sure, Steve was ‘one of them,’ a commander in his own right, but he was a headache, and if he could smooth that over, make the disruption go easier, he would. It would help his team. It would help the war effort. 

**Author's Note:**

> chapter two possibly incoming?? who knows. not me!


End file.
